When Hermione Fights Special Chapters
by LotusAivy
Summary: Accompany Hermione Granger and her friends through some back ground one shots chapters of the main fanfiction: When Hermione Fights, written by Queenie Granger, translated by me. Age 18 Restriction!
1. Special 1: The parents' sins

Here a (in Queenies own words) short One Shot, a wish from one of her German readers!  
These Chapters are all Special One Shots to the Main Fanfiction When Hermione Fights.  
Very Important also: Please do not read if you are below 18! As this story and their Special One shots are for adults only! And of course we don't owe anything and we don't get rich from it, but we enjoy it, and we get rich of love and hugs and friends. All of the characters and the world etc. belongs to J.K. Rowling! Also, these chapters are not essential to the main fanfiction When Hermione Fights, as they just tell you the very background story of some of the moments of the story. But they are really good too, and we love to share our happiest moments with you. ;)

Freshly Betad by: Sop12345d Thanks so much to beta this huge piece!

So, lean back and hopefully enjoy. Please just read this One Shot if you have read: **Chapter 6, Insights of my Past!**

* * *

 **The parents sins**

Mr. Granger POV

"Good god, this child! It will drive me mad one day!", my wife, visibly upset, ran her hand through her hair and looked at me desperately.

"Please, Helen, she is our daughter," I called out, worried at her awareness, and stroked myself with a harsh gesture over my burning eyes. Why must our life be so hard?

"I know..." I sighed that ailingly, so much so that it almost physically hurt, but to my chagrin, I could understand her feelings all too well, and I didn't feel that guilty towards our daughter.

She was a burden from the day she was born, and as much as I feel sorry, I needed to admit it!

"What do you mean by that? She'll always be our daughter, it's Hermione," I whispered with a broken voice.

This strife in my family has laid heavy in my stomach for years. Because it was true, it might be exhausting, but she will always be our own flesh and blood. She'd always get what she wanted, what I was able to give her, as long as we could cope in one way or the other to keep our life on a halfway normal path.

Since we welcomed Hermione on the day she was born, we pushed huge and heavy problems in front of us.

Whereby, that wasn't entirely true!

When did it begin? When did it start to be so utterly complicated?

I don't quite know anymore. When I really think about it, I know for sure, that it started too early to be quite creepy.  
Did it start when she began to crawl? Or with her first, awkward attempts to walk? Or was it her blowups, when she didn't get the toys she wanted, while she was imprisoned in her cot, as the creepy signs began?

There was the problem, as Hermione tried to make the impossible possible, it made our life for the last 10 years hell.

Apart from the fact that Hermione was, as a child, pure joy: curious, intelligent and smart. Our child has shown us from the very beginning that she outstripped her contemporaries by far and has been obviously ahead of their development. All parents would've been blissful at first to call a child like that their own, if there wouldn't have been these inexplicable outbursts, which put fear and terror into us. Her inexplicability brought us horrible compunctions and spurred us into a negative fantasy.

"I beg your pardon, - wizards? Witches? That's mischief!" gave my wife with a slight hysterical pitch, regarding the fact that our daughter had brought us our next shock of our life, on her accord.

I impatiently hit the tabletop and grimaced, as my wife still tried to adjust to everything by suppressing it. Usually she was so rational, but when it came to our daughter's outbursts, she always became slightly hysterical.

Slowly and sadly I then shook my head, because I could see toys flying around wildly through the room in my memories, objects which stood in the way disappearing, or items weighing like tons easily shifting on their own, out of the blue.

The first outburst left me beyond desperate and shocked. My wife and I cried ourselves to sleep that night. We felt like we'd been in the wrong movie. Since when could this be real?

What did we do, that Hermione could do something like that?

Maybe we could've learned to deal with it and the floating objects wouldn't have been the worst, but when Hermione attacked Helen with a broken shard of the bottles and glasses she had tossed down the table, as she got one of her tantrums and hurt Helen on the cheek, I snapped.

I did something unforgivable and hit my daughter, my child. I assumed, that she was too young to remember, but I did it on this day. It has strained me since then with guilty feelings. Afterwards a world broke apart for me and even for Helen. The revelation of how the inexplicable talent of my child could force me to do such a thing was terrifying and that a toddler could hurt her own mother, daunting.

Over the years my wife and I despaired, as Hermione frequently did new, terrifying things, which never gave us rest. To now receive this information, that everything happened because of magic, was illuminating.

Magic was immediately an adequate explanation for me, of which I was ready to accept, as it provided me a profound escape, which didn't let me doubt my sanity, whilst my wife drowned in doubts. I clutched the parchment which provided the explanation of magic as hard and as desperately as my wife was hopeless.

"The owl, she did it and we didn't imagine it," I dared to interpose with feigned confidence.

Eventually the particularities around my daughter reached the climax, when this morning on the patio we became flabbergasted, for a huge bird had landed, plummeting onto our table and holding out a letter to Hermione.

"Tush, owls are like carrier pigeons," my wife claimed vehemently and I grinned, although this time didn't feel like grinning. I assumed that she would try everything to deny this other world.

"They are?," I asked, scoffing tenderly.

"Stop it, take me seriously," my wife riled back.

"I do take you seriously. An owl has landed here with a letter and one can blame Hermione for many things, but a vivid imagination does not belong to her, darling! She didn't write it, nor did she find an owl," I defended her. I realised my peculiar wish: that it was really true and I would finally have an explanation to what was wrong with her.

"I would trust her to do everything. This child does enough mischief! This ominous letter will just make everything worse, or do you believe it?" her big, brown eyes looked hopefully at me and at the same time desperately intense.

"What? That this world is real?" I wanted to hear it and nervously played with the handle of my tea cup.

"Yes, don't you think that this is just nonsense and a crazy idea?" Helen whispered, really unhappy, and stroked a curly strand with a trembling hand harshly away from her forehead. "Hermione is a strange and odd child."

"Oh please, who in my family is not odd?" I scaled it down playfully, because I didn't like it when my wife showed me that she distanced herself emotionally more and more from Hermione and I didn't like it either, when she labeled her as just a child.

Our relationship to our daughter was tense and shaped with a certain chill, albeit I appreciated it, when she still got everything she needed to train her keen mind. But even I as well as my wife, couldn't provide her with great love, since we lost this great, intoxicating feeling towards her years ago.

This tragic confession caused my heart to burn past belief. I never wanted to become such an incredibly bad person. Was this the reason why I was a bad person? Was I a bad father?

Thoughts like that haunted me every second. They demoralized me and cost me many sleepless nights. They made my life miserable and from time to time my family was such a burden to me that I almost couldn't bare it anymore.

"What do you mean by that?" she immediately whispered back, exhausted, as she could sense the reproach in my voice. By all means we had an unpleasant argument together every now and then, as we rarely agreed with each other on how we would get around Hermione and what we would do to make sure that no one would know what was wrong with our daughter.

We lived a secret and hidden life which strained us, because it wasn't easy for us to prevent that family, acquaintances, friends and the school noticed that Hermione was just not normal. It was more than difficult because she just was different than other children. Thus I reacted to my wife's indignation with just a disparaging shrug.

"That's what I say, all members of your family have always been highly talented... you too" I repelled.

Every child who is bright will have a difficult life in school, wherefore inevitably, sometime the disillusionment follows after the happiness to have such a "special" child, though in our case the happiness has never been there, as Hermione's exceeding talents has been too unusual that anyone would've faced us with incomprehension and distrust and we would've aroused unwanted attention.

I briefly put my hand over my forehead as if I had a headache. I never wished for much in my life. We lived a good life. We had a house, had enough money, a job which satisfied us and a child, who was successful in school, and despite her intellectual giftedness, she got on there, admittedly in her own way, but better than many others. Why did everything else, apart from this, have to be so difficult?

But how must it be for Hermione? Who, as I knew very well, had no friends, due to either her intellectual giftedness or her outbursts. How must it be, when one suddenly skipped classes and got praised, because one was so smart? Yet, one won't ever get friends like that, when one does inscrutable and uncanny things - it was spectacularly difficult to be a child!

I felt awfully sorry for my daughter. But how I could adequately change something for her? I didn't know then, but now the chance had come up to me to help her at least partially, as the isolation based on her intellectual giftedness was still there. I needed to support her to bring about her life and so I could maybe relieve the wrong I committed towards my child.

"You can't explain Hermione's 'otherness' with this - that I or my family have always been very precocious or just even very talented," Helen retorted, extremely offended. She sniffed, the tears reflecting in her eyes.

She didn't like it when I compared her with Hermione and disregarded my own family. We shoved the blame back and forth for years about who was responsible over Hermione being just different.

There were many ugly moments in our marriage because of our daughter!

"Touche, my love," showing myself as very approachable and leaning back with a sigh, at the same time ignoring the delicate topic of guilt. In quiet moments, I blamed myself and just myself, but Helen too was at odds with herself over who the blame should be laid upon.

It was an eternal circle, which we could just barely break, as we couldn't get to an outcome. My wife recognized the purpose behind the recrimination. She briefly fell quiet, whilst I, lost in thought, smoothed down the owl's letter, still in front of me.

"I'm still unhappy, as I don't know how to act towards her. Since the day when objects flew through the air..." Helen ceased talking. Her hand twitched to the small, fine scar which ran over her cheek and which she always covered with make-up carefully. She looked at me with tear-veiled eyes. "...since then I'm scared of her," she shudderingly admitted, quietly sobbing. My heart contracted with this confession.

This confession, that one was scared of one's own flesh and blood, was terrible and a parent should never need to admit it.

But I could understand her so terribly well, as I felt the same, even knowing that Hermione for sure didn't hurt Helen on purpose. But it was the knowledge of what she could do with her skills that made it very painful.

What kind of parents did that make us?

I tried to pull myself together and confessed to myself that I too had handled Hermione with kid gloves after my act of violence, since I knew that anything unpleasant could drive her back into an outburst and put me on the edge of self-control.

"Understandable, me too," I confessed reluctantly but sincerely, which made Helen give an unhappy but resigned smile. "But now we have slowly but surely an explanation," I hopefully looked at the lines in front of me again, whereupon Helen grimaced, downcast.

"Which pleases me even less. I beg you, magic? Wizardry? Have we landed in Hollywood?," my very rational wife shook her curly head. "It's so unbelievable."

"My love, can I be blunt? It is better for me to hear such things than anything else! Imagine if we were told that she is possessed by demons, like in The Exorcist. Would you rather hear that? I'm happier that my daughter is a witch," I pushed myself to think of the lesser evil and suppressed the chills who wanted to assault me when I expressed my deepest concerns. I had already considered every possibility as well as impossibility.

"You're impossible, that you always distort everything like that, Or even find a justification!" came sharply from her, causing me to give her a depressed look.

"Do I do that? I thought I'd rather see the positive side of the thing," I sniffed plainly, for her tone did not please me.

"Call it however you want I say, you say beautiful things, but they do no good here and now," she replied and folded her arms tightly in front of her chest.

Meanwhile her eyes told me that she was struggling with herself and simply did not know what she should believe. She did not want to believe in this letter, for if the magic as an explanation, too, would turn out to be a failure, she would only fall deeper. She did not want to give herself any false hope. "Do you see it like this?" I asked quietly.

The painful knot in my stomach increased. Had already so much been broken in our family that she did not realize that this letter could help Hermione find the place she belonged to?  
Did she not see that, this time, the hope to help Hermione seemed to be justified? For some time, I was plagued by the sorrows of puberty. The question of how to overcome this, for Hermione's own insecurity, was very noticeable to me. My smart girl knew that she was completely different from other girls, and that made her everyday life, with others in her own age, twice as hard.

I found we had to support our daughter unconditionally and even if a more than obtuse way out opened up, I would follow it for her! I owed that to my daughter after I was not able to help her. I was now ready to consider every possibility as long as it helped Hermione.

"What do you mean by that again?" My wife bawled.

"That our daughter could find her place in life through this letter and I do not want to stand in the way," I insisted eagerly and put all my hopes into the thought that everything would perhaps really improve through this letter.

"Oh," was Helen's speechless comment.

"Yes, oh! She never had it easy in the past eleven years. Now that something like this comes along - that there really is this other world - who am I to put myself in her way? Perhaps that makes everything easier for us too," I said with deep confidence that I carried within me.

Would we still be able to be a normal family?

Was there hope for us to be normal?

I was optimistic, because here was written that this school was a boarding school. From the beginning, it was clear to us that this would be out of the question for Hermione because of the outbursts. And I knew that Helen and Hermione would do well when they got distanced from each other. We had to use this opportunity for both mother and daughter and for me, because our togetherness and marriage had suffered badly during the last years.

"What do you mean by that? Easier?" she now pushed her teacup uneasily across the table and licked her lips uncertainly.

"She would be gone, far away," I spoke fervently, though inside I whispered out my hopes - that this would be all right - and yet I still felt like a miserable father.

"Yes ..." Helen breathed sadly, but also hopefully.

It did not sound nice, but I knew which two hearts were just beating in her b***. That of the mother, who had always felt guilty because she did not love her child as much as she should, and that of the wife, who also longed for ease and peace in her everyday life and her marriage.

"Yes, the distance would do us all good," I said sincerely, showing my despicable thoughts, which caused something to sparkle in the eyes of my wife. She slowly understood what it would mean if we were to let Hermione go, and I thought the same way, even if I was in conflict with myself.

"You're absolutely right, she really would. Do you think she would learn to curb herself? She would do well, too?" My wife suddenly straightened up much more determinedly and suddenly sounded hopeful, which indicated that when it was for Hermione's best interests, she would not have any feelings of guilt over her actions.

"I suppose, why else should there be a school for witchcraft and wizardry?" I agreed, slowly nodding.

"That sounds so tremendous and... Oh, I don't know..." she put her hand on her mouth, as if she were forbidden to speak, but I could clearly see the flared up confidence in her eyes.

"Exciting and unbelievable?" I asked, but since we had our daughter, we were accustomed to experience the like.

For a few seconds we looked at each other silently, and then speechlessly we each decided for ourselves that we would dare to do it.

"A world not of our own, that scares me," she whispered finally, almost suffocated by her hand, and swallowed uncomfortably. The goose bumps that were appearing on her body were not to be overlooked, and I nodded unhappily. The depths were so deep - it was difficult to think about this monstrosity.

"I know, me too. Were we blind?" My eyes twitched from the letter to Helen and back. Would this really be the right thing, pulling her into this unknown world?

"And yet we let her go?" My wife's question sounded more like a rhetorical question than a real one.

"Yes," I said decisively. Fate had decided for us a long time ago.

End of Mr. Grangers POV

Hermione's POV

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL FOR WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_  
 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Miss Granger,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._  
 _Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_  
 _Deputy Headmistress_

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL_  
 _of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _UNIFORM_  
 _First-year students will require:_  
 _Three sets of plain work robes (black)_  
 _One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_  
 _One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_  
 _One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_  
 _Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags._

 _COURSE BOOKS_  
 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

 _\- The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_  
 _by Miranda Goshawk_  
 _\- A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_  
 _\- Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_  
 _\- A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_  
 _\- One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_  
 _by Phyllida Spore_  
 _\- Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_  
 _\- Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_  
 _by Newt Scamander_  
 _\- The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_  
 _by Quentin Trimble_

 _OTHER EQUIPMENT_

 _1 wand_  
 _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_  
 _1 set glass or crystal phials_  
 _1 telescope_  
 _1 set brass scales_

 _Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad._

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

I stared at the letter like a hypnotist. Well, first at the owl, then at the letter and again and again a word sprang into my head: witchcraft!

Was I a witch?

Hope rose in me, infinite hope - I might finally get an explanation.

At the same time, however, the fear and the uncertainty that I had too much hope and then I would be fooled.

This letter was incredibly wonderful. It was incredible but also too good to be true.

"Hermione, would you please go into your room?" demanded my Mum, stiffly. I found her to be over-reacting.

Mum did not sound questioning, and even though I was terribly nervous and upset since the arrival of the strange letter, I had learned to obey this blaming voice bravely.

She generally promised nothing good, suggesting that I had done something wrong and that there were some odd, unintelligible things to cover up.

How I hated my life!

It was corrosive to constantly have to submit to the dictation of my parents. I kept doing something wrong, did not behave inconspicuously enough, or left my emotions too free.

I groaned miserably and threw a longing look, with the fervent desire that this should be the solution to all my problems, to the parchment. I wanted so much that it was true as I slowly went to retire, like the obedient daughter I was.

The biggest problem with the whole thing was I would not be myself if I had not quickly slid into my secret place to listen over the terrace, for when was the last time I was good?

Should it have affected me, what I had heard?

Sure, because it wasn't nice to hear how my parents talked about me so badly, but I was used to my suffering to keep track of the doubts, fears and worries of my parents because of me!

It hurt me unspeakably deeply that they said that they feared me, but I did not understand why.

For years, I worked on myself and suppressed my emotions, restrained them. When everyone around me were either terribly stupid or slow, I did not get instantly angry because I had learned that most people were not as fast as I was. My last outburst lay long back.

Well, I should be honest, the last outbreak that Mum and Dad knew about lay long back. I had learned to cover it up when I did something forbidden. After all, I was a terribly fast learner.

I bit my tongue and rigorously suppressed the tears that tickled me in the corner of my eyes. Until recently, I had been so happy to read this letter and now I heard this!

Of course, they would never talk so openly if they knew I could hear every word, but I have known for a long time how my parents saw me, though I hoped they would not steal my opportunity to be who I truly was: a witch!

Before my eyes, the book list appeared, and while Mum expressed her fear of me, I dreamed of becoming a notoriously enchanted sorceress who made the world out of breath.

That would be so cool!

I wanted to get away, away from the rules of my parents, away from their misunderstanding and I did not want to disturb them any longer.

Maybe they would be happier without me and maybe I could finally live freely and learn to exorcise my demons.

Yes, I wanted to dare it. I wanted this adventure. I wanted to get to know this new world for myself and of course I was hurt, but I bravely blinked away the sad tears, for I heard my dad say frankly that he was ready to let me go. Victoriously, I clenched my hands in fists and stretched them in the air, for soon I would be free!

In the course of the same day there came a strange lady, and after her visit I lay with a happy smile in my bed. It could not have been better. Someone had appeared to bring us closer to this new world. The Muggle professor Charity Burbage had brought us to the Diagon Alley, and had also been talking with my parents before and had shown them that there was real magic.

Since then, I was over the moon and even Mum and Dad seemed happier than they had for years!

This street was the absolute hit, so ancient, medieval and somehow retrograde to the modern Muggle world and then again totally different, so mystical and mysterious.

Everything was impressive- the funny and oddly dressed people, the animals, the extraordinary stores, the incredibly impressive bank with the ugly goblins. I felt as special as Dorothy in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, or Sarah in Labyrinth.

They filled my every wish, and I couldn't believe that everything was falling into place. The three of us were like small, curious children who were traveling in a leisure park. We often went into this magical street to relieve my reading needs. Even my parents got some of the books every now and then on the subject of magic and studied it attentively. It was a beautiful and exciting time for me to discover and conquer this new world!

The first time I held my wand at Ollivander's in my hand and felt the magic trickle through me, it was like awakening from a long deep sleep. I felt indescribably alive when the bright radiant light burst from the wand and everything re-ordered itself. In the background, I noticed my parents holding their breath and watching me behave like a magician, while I had an unexpected uplift. This was a gift, an unimaginable gift, and I was sure I was destined for something greater!

Even my parents were more active with themselves and with me. A hitherto unknown lightness reigned from the day the letter had arrived. We were filled with hope that everything would be all right.

Then I read like a madman to learn about this magical world and had to realize that it would be possible for me to use the wand only at Hogwarts. An annoying aspect, but it did not change the fact that I did obey. I memorized the spells by heart and practiced the movements. I was addicted to feeling this magic flow through me again and again and wished to start at school as soon as possible.

I had the magic, I was close to sorcery, the knowledge of the books flew to me, even more than the material of the "normal" school. I had found my vocation, I wanted to grow up in magic.

Although I still had to accept the fact that I was not a "normal" person - I was not a muggle, as the wizards said. With great interest, I read the statements in the books, and during these days I watched my parents closely and tried to see what the difference between us was.

Was it apparent that we were different? Except for the magic, did one recognize it, see it?

Why was only I magical, but my parents weren't?

All these questions I was unfortunately unable to answer, because I could not find any differing characteristics that I was magical and different from my parents who were non-magical muggles.

We remained the same. If I did no magic, I was like them!

That made me feel tremendous, and I was anxious to see how different the magical kids would be from real wizards. Would they be more like me? Would they be as gifted as me? Have they been noticed in the normal school as well?

I hoped to finally find peers who were like me!

So I went very joyfully and with the hope that I would now also experience understanding and acceptance, as I had been denied so far, to the train. On to Hogwarts, on to my new, better life!

The platform was rampant and as we traversed the wall to track 9 3/4, I left my old life behind forever as we rediscovered this new world within our old world.

"Impressive," muttered my father, rubbing his gray-mottled hair.

"It's frightening that it's right next to us, undetected," Mum whispered, looking speechless. I didn't blame her. How did they manage to lock this world away from me?

My head turned back and forth, this was just too great, so many people!

"Ouch," Mum suddenly exclaimed and staggered.

"Careful," said a large man snobbishly.

Mum, like all of us, was distracted by this other world and stumbled into a truly impressive man. I stared at him like the impressive appearance he was.

"I ... I ... excuse me," came my mother, who was visibly uncomfortable and pushed her hair out of her face. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Yes, my wife is fascinated by all of this," Dad waved it away hastily, pointing to the old locomotive that was standing in front of us.

"If my eyes do not deceive me… a Muggle," the man in front of us sneered, drawing up his spine in a domineering posture.

I could not take my eyes off his almost white long hair. The first man with the long hair had behaved like an actor from the old, historical films that my mum so loved.

This sight captivated me, especially because I inevitably imagined my father with long hair. I almost laughed, a bit hysterical. But while my father seemed ridiculous to me, the man in front of me looked like a king, walking as confidently as he did.

The way he held himself was so self-confident, with a cloak and walking-stick, but he didn't look silly. He radiated an almost aristocratic and stately sublimity, which drew a reverential retreat.

"Lucius, there's Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson in front," a melodic voice sounded next to him, and my parents' eyes went to the radiant, but also arrogant, woman in a very chic, noble costume that emphasized her flawless figure. She immediately looked at Mum skeptically.

Mum didn't have a particular expression on her face, but I knew that she put a lot of thought into her weight and was just now trying to figure out who looked better, herself or this strange lady.

"You're a wizard?" Dad asked innocently, and two very bright eyes twitched visibly, while an ice-cold smile spread over the striking features of the man.

"Take care," his words sounding almost like a threat in my suspicious ears.

Then he turned away on his heel with a flowing coat, and made a very unique departure, and as he divided the crowd like Moses the Red Sea, they withdrew before his sovereign form.

"What a man," Mum whispered so softly that Dad didn't hear her and I looked skeptically after him. Mum sometimes has a very special taste.

"Girls! Where are you? The train will leave without Hermione!" Dad shouted excitedly in the crowd, and it seemed to me that it would be the worst thing for him if the train really left without me.

"So, my girl is now a young woman! Make us proud and show everyone how clever and gifted you are," my father said as a goodbye. I was already standing on the footboard, looking down at my parents and nodding eagerly.

"I'll make you proud, I promise," I countered, and Mum gave me a deep smile that I rarely got from her.

"Take care, Hermione, and have a happy year at school," she said, looking confident and cheerful.

"Take care," I waved, hopping happily into the train.

So I conquered the train for myself, and on that day, I realized at once that I was different in the world of magic.

What a bitter disappointment this realization was. Children seemed to remain children, whether magical or not!

They had the same interests as muggle children and so I could not do anything with them at all.

They were nasty little beasts!

They did not appreciate brilliance, readiness and geniality, and were only interested, like Muggle children, in trivial games and fun. How sobering this was right at the beginning for me.

I met the girls of my year's class and only saw stupid giggles and stories from the guys who gave them the best. So I withdrew behind my book and almost immediately fell back into my distant, better-knowing manner, to protect myself from the evil children, who, like the beacons, realized that I was just different.

Quieter than them, like a small, overgrown adult. It did not really make me more sympathetic, although one had to hold that their senseless and brainless behavior did not really appeal to me.

A tricky situation that was infinitely sobering, and it also made me deeply sad that for me, at first sight, nothing would change in the inter-human realm. Even in this new world, I was and would remain strange and would probably find no acceptance, as no one here liked reading books and certainly no one liked reading school books.

When I listened to a conversation in the train of the older children, I also had to learn that I would have a double life in this world.

I felt as if a house of cards collapsed over me, which I had imagined in my wildest dreams in the past few weeks, but truth and reality always came very quickly. I realized so suddenly that I was not part of either world.

I was only tolerated here as a so-called Muggle-born, while I was feared in the Muggle world. It was not an easy thing to realize that as an 11, almost 12-year-old, one did not really belong anywhere.

Confused, I heard the words pure blood, half-blood, and Muggle-born. So far I had not read anything about it, but I decided to do some research at Hogwarts. When I discovered the enchanting library the next morning and captured their secrets for me, I realized that these words were poignantly bad.

It was even worse than I expected. I groaned when I realized for myself what these words would mean for me and my future. I would have to be twice as good and three times better than anyone else to get rid of my "inferior" birth!

Great. I swallowed hard.

This revelation became one of my best kept secrets, especially from my parents, who would never know what problems I was exposed to in this new world. They were glad I was there, where I belonged because of my magical abilities. They didn't see everyone like that in the magical world, so I would let them have their faith.

Not a pretty insight for a little girl, but the train ride was endless and couldn't handle dealing with the girls my age, so I focused elsewhere.

Immediately, I learned rejection and contempt on the train, and if I had not been as strong as life had made me at a young age, I would probably have burst into tears. I resolutely distracted myself from my isolation and helped a visibly nervous and uncertain boy, who was looking for his toad. This way how I got to know the great Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, a legend in the magical world, was a pure disappointment, for nothing was special about him.

Though I obviously knew more about him than he knew about himself, which was strange, but not my problem!

Especially since I was not welcome in the compartment because his companion did not really welcome me. The fact that I was able to successfully use my wand in front of the audience for the first time raised my mood immensely.

Spells were easy for me, charms were simple and endlessly charming, and helped me to ignore the fact that this train ride had not brought any friends.

I escaped from the compartment to give myself this great moment alone. It meant a lot to me that I had managed to cast a spell without really practicing before!

No matter what I had heard, I knew I was good, and that made me feel better. During the rest of the train journey, I was worried and wondered if that was all right, if my situation didn't change. I would still be alone, but when I saw the great, impressive castle in front of the dark night sky in front of me, I knew this was the place of my destiny.

I had arrived home!

I was overwhelmed and humbled by this building that would be my home from now on. All of my companions were also speechless from the mystical and magical beauty of this place.

The boat trip passed as if in a rage. I was so captivated that I did not really register the arrival and when I entered the Great Hall with firm and determined steps, I did not want to let myself know that I was a little intimidated myself and fought my uncertainty and nervousness with my knowledge of Hogwarts. Again, a point that was made obvious was how different I was from my comrades. I had read all the books and knew everything there was to know about Hogwarts from books, especially "Hogwarts: A History". I wondered how these pure-blooded, magical children could have no idea of these things!

It also revealed how different we were in our behavior.

I found them ignorant, they surely thought me a know-it-all, but nothing could dampen my euphoria. I was exuberantly enthusiastic and from the moment it became clear what my peers thought of me, I knew I wanted to be the best witch in the world!

Being here was a miracle and I would make it my own personal miracle!

The impressions flooded me right then and there. There was the enchanted ceiling, which I had already read about, but what was really beautiful and overwhelming, was a hat that had suddenly begun to speak, and I listened with pricked ears.

 _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
 _But don't judge on what you see,_  
 _I'll eat myself if you can find_  
 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_  
 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_  
 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
 _So try me on and I will tell you_  
 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
 _Where they are just and loyal,_  
 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
 _if you've a ready mind,_  
 _Where those of wit and learning,_  
 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
 _You'll make your real friends,_  
 _Those cunning folks use any means_  
 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
 _And don't get in a flap!_  
 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

 _(Quote from Volume 1 Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Chapter 7)_

Gradually, the students sat down and were sorted into the houses. I was terribly nervous for when my turn would finally come. The division into the houses this evening would be decisive for our future.

In the meantime, I switched my gaze to a teacher, an old man with a long, white beard, and tried to push away the feeling that his good-natured countenance was merely a spectacle. He seemed so innocent with his mild smile that my feelings felt absurd.

The rest of the staff did not really captivate me. The lady, who had brought us in, appeared to me to be strict but possessing integrity, so I could handle it. The giant at the end of the table attracted my attention because of his size. I saw Professor Burbage, who had introduced me into the magical world, and a very gloomy man, who seemed to be quite young, and yet sink completely into blackness.  
His face was unreadable, but he seemed incredibly competent in his self-assured and yet repulsive appearance. Only the call of my name made me start out of my contemplation.

"Mmm, very difficult," the squeaky voice said in my ear as the hat slipped over my eyes. "Difficult, I see a lot of courage. A brilliant head, I must say. There is more than talent... here is geniality, my goodness, yes, and how... and a strong thirst to prove itself, now that is interesting, so young and so clever... where am I going to put you, young lady? So much trickery..."

"Please... I have no idea!" I thought, overwhelmed, and was once again, quite to my astonishment, the hat spoke to me. These new worlds made me look forward to the challenges, but how did this work?

"So irresolute! Oh, and yet so inquisitive! Not to worry, you would be a good Hufflepuff, only the rest of the Hufflepuffs would not be for you," the hat replied doubtfully, and I frowned. This was definitely not a compliment.

"Uh," I said, eloquently, but the hat did not allow me to finish.

"Exciting... to my astonishment, you would make yourself great in Slytherin. It's all there in your head and the friends you would find there, really… only your blood does not satisfy the founder enough... a shame, if only you were a half-blood... a pity...  
a shame..." said the hat. Apparently I was being judged for something I could not control. "Even Ravenclaw would be fit for your knowledge-minded spirit, but not a challenge..." the hat gradually broke up and it made me uneasy. Where would I spend the next few years if he rejected every house?

"Is there no house for me?" I asked cautiously.

"Of course, everyone has his place, then simply... Gryffindor!" He shouted only the last word loudly into the hall and the elderly lady pulled my hat off my head. I jumped up without hesitation and hurried happily towards the table of my House and to my uncertain future too.

I was full of good things, despite the negative facets of the magical world that I had already experienced today!

* * *

So, we hope you enjoyed it! You might've realised that the stories gramatic changed a bit during this shot, as I started to use Google Translator for help. He's my new best friend! Though I'm still looking for a Beta, as I do need someone having a double read over it. I'd be glad when you're interested in helping me, to be a beta, just send me a message. ;)

My very best late Christmas Wishes and a very Happy New Year!


	2. Special 2: To go Hunting!

Different POV for chapter 57 + 58, the Ministry's Christmas Ball.  
This chapter is part of a collection of outtakes / specials. Accompany Hermione Granger and her friends through some back ground one shots chapters of the main fanfiction: When Hermione Fights, written by Queenie Granger, translated by me and my team.  
This is the last chapter translated by the wonderful Cate. Thanks to Sophie and GG for helping with beta work!

Edit: Formatting Issues.

Lucius Malfoy's POV

This was the Ministry's Christmas Ball, 1995.

It was the first Christmas without my patriarchal and strict father, Abraxas Malfoy, who had died shortly before the Lord's resurrection. To the Lord's great regret, because my father had been a fanatic, but the dragon pox had been his end and killed the seventy year old.

Yes, my path was marked by struggles, at first against my father at home, who put a lot of pressure on me, then Hogwarts, then the Lord, then the business world and politics, then Narcissa and then my son, but I accepted everything and always came out on top.

Just as my father had been Slytherin's leader in his Hogwarts time back then, so had I. Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord, had personally handed him the leadership of the house!

And so it had been set that I had to and would head the house as well, and hence I had overthrown and dethroned Bellatrix Black, later Lestrange, and the four-year-older sister to the woman who would become my wife, in a spectacular in-house coup in my second year, something she never forgave me for and complained about until today, especially since I had also been admitted by the Dark Lord himself into the illustrious circle of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord had immediately favoured me over her and accepted me into the Inner Circle.

The Black Sisters, in my opinion, weren't sound of mind, though I admit I had something going on with the one-year-older Andromeda when she was in sixth grade and Narcissa and I in our fifth year. Andromeda and I had a very satisfying relationship for half a year.

That relationship had worked until she fell head over heels in love with Ted Tonks, a one-year-older seventh year, her later husband, to whom she had remained faithful from then on until her graduation and whom she stubbornly insisted on marrying.

Whenever I saw her, I had to think about the restful time with her, though at the time we both didn't know that I would marry her sister Narcissa, as she and I only learned about it in our seventh year. We were promised to each other, something that spontaneously came to our fathers during a bout in the lair!

In my mind I sighed heavily, looking at my imposing family who stood majestically in the gleaming hall, lit by the thousands and thousands of candles, and held court with me.

The ivory-colored marble and opulent, extravagant gold of the ornaments on the walls flattered our complexion, and this banquet hall on the top floor of the Ministry was well known to me through numerous visits to Fudge's office, which was also on this floor.

The hall was tacky and splendid and displayed our position in the magical world quite appropriately, although it wasn't comparable to the splendor of the ballroom in the Manor, I thought contemptuously, slightly lifting the corners of my mouth, and severely lacking in subtlety.

That golden horror of a fountain wasn't meeting my taste, too. Art played a big role in the Manor, as each of my ancestors had a different kind of fine-minded and art-loving nature, and this interest was utilised excessively to beautify our home permanently, However, the Ministry's fountain was a gruesome act of tastelessness.

I glanced at my reflection on one of the thousands and upon thousands of small shards that were attached here and there, giving the room width and depth, and looked at my well-groomed appearance. My white-blond, long, silky, shimmering hair, a legacy of the family, was in great shape as always, lying smoothly over my back, bound together by a dark blue velvet ribbon.

I knew that my appearance, which I prided myself on, looked impressive. I stood straight and elegant in the most proper and decent manner, wearing my perfectly fitting and tailored suit with the appropriate dignity.

It fitted perfectly and was of superior quality. On top of it I wore a dark blue velvet cloak displaying the crest of my family, a lavishly ornate 'M' entwined by fine floral patterns in silver embroidery.

I also observed my son out of the corner of my eye, who was standing next to me and conducting himself perfectly and in accordance with his station. He wore a suit as well, in the same material as mine, only his crest was smaller, but that was the only deviation, and his much shorter hair, otherwise we looked very similar and gave a royal, stately and impressive picture.

In size and stature Draco and I didn't differ much anymore, and we were both in great shape and well trained. We Malfoy men looked good and could be sure of the attention of the people in this room.

My profile was a bit more prominent and sharper than Draco's, those were the genes of the Blacks which came through in him, yet we both had beautiful faces underlined by luscious paleness. My eyes were a darker grey than Draco's and they were aimed with an expression of superiority, contempt and boredom at Narcissa, who coyly put an empty glass on a tray floating by.

I looked at my wife, who, as I had said, had been forced upon me. It was nice that Abraxas and Cygnus Black, Narcissa's father, had come to an agreement, but I had no use of this smug, snobby and vain woman. She didn't just act like, but truly was like this.

She was bland... uninteresting, uninspiring! She was boring!

She was set in her own way of thinking and so dreadfully dainty and pretentious and posh, just for her own amusement and absolutely disinterested in her environment. She was a class A bitch and uninspired and boring in bed, without energy and wit. The only place where one would elicit interesting noises from her was when she had behaved badly again and I could chastise her.

Yes, then she sang like a little bell, which I despised, because this woman couldn't endure anything and usually immediately broke down pitifully.

At Dracos birth, I had actually thought - and hoped - she would die, the way she had screamed the manor down.

Too bad that she didn't die. I threw a appraising look at the smaller but still tall woman next to me, because poor me had been stuck with her for too many years.

Just now she was looking around pompously, haughtily and very snobbishly.

Right, we were Malfoys, but she was just a Black!

I didn't like Blacks and the corners of my mouth twitched again when I looked at her overly slender, relatively tall body that didn't attract me at all, never had, and the way she looked around with her lifeless and cold blue eyes.

Yes, she was kind of beautiful, but so dreadfully bland.

Her hair, which couldn't match the brightness of the Malfoy hair, was shoulder-length, and contained two white-golden combs studded with sapphires shaped like serpents which were holding it out of her smooth but blank face. Abruptly her expression changed and it seemed as if she was even more disgusted than before, and the arrogant expression was reflected in her cold eyes.

She wore a tight, long, white silk dress with silver accents on the half-length sleeves and cleavage, which had a submarine cut and left a part of the shoulders free. For such a flowing dress you couldn't have a gram too much on the hips, which that bony woman didn't have.

She was worthy of a pure-blooded Malfoy, even her aloof demeanor. She seemed almost otherworldly in her choice of pure white colour, too delicate and fragile, and of course she destroyed that impression by showing off and putting on a heavy white-gold necklace with large sapphires, as well as matching rings and bracelets. It all seemed excessive!

I found it too much, but I didn't care, because the most important thing was our appearance in public and in that we were perfect and acting like a well-rehearsed trio. After all we gave an impressive picture and dominated the hall, making sure that all attention was on us, thus she was fulfilling her purpose.

Lost in thought and dying of boredom, I was played with my cane, my thumb sliding playfully over the tips of the fangs in the wide open mouth of the silvery snake head whose eyes were made of sparkling emeralds, my deprecative look wandering over the crowd in the too swanky hall.

My gaze lingered on our current, boastful and pompous Minister Fudge, dressed in a suit he almost ripped apart, my currently best friend, and his wife, who were still standing at the entrance to greet the guests personally.

Time and again my gaze returned to the tormenting, tasteless sight of the woman who was the wife of the minister and looked like a glittering red demon in her too-tight sequin dress and praised the style of my wife that I hated so much, at least she knew how to dress.

Even the opulent diamond jewelry of the Minister's wife was a crime of the worst kind, nothing could be further from composure or restraint, or understatement. It was a total lack of taste. She flashed like a glowing Muggle Christmas tree and almost blinded everyone, which made me look away in horror after a second.

Those two people were tiresome, but necessary. I suppressed a sorrowful sigh, because I was immensely and terribly sorry for myself. These society events had the potential to be amusing, but right now it was just enervating.

I had to hide my sudden confusion so nothing penetrated my perfect-fitting mask of indifference, when a couple approached us, whose sight made me almost show my astonished surprise.

I recognized the female companion of the man and couldn't fully prevent the amazement showing in my eyes, as it surprised me so much that this person approached us so confidently, I was actually speechless. Wow, Miss Granger, the Mudblood number one and Potter's best friend.

Whereas wasn't surprised that the young man was in good spirits when he came closer, after all, this was Viktor Krum, player of the Vratsa Vultures. And since I held shares of the club and he had also been seated at the Hogwarts' Slytherin Table during the Triwizard Tournament and since then was an acquaintance of Draco, it was only understandable that he approached me or us.

Although I knew that we had murdered his grandfather in the first war, but he didn't have to be aware of... who had done the deed and so I gave him a cold, but friendly smile.

However, I was having a hard time, because the appearance of the Mudblood had rattled me, which I would never admit or even show, and thus I wore a super cold expression.

I was enamored by her from the second I saw her in this wisp of nothing.

The couple was just the attraction of the ball and all the eyes and attention of the party were especially on her. But I, too, was spellbound, for seeing her aroused something in me that I had long considered dead.

Who would've thought that the sight of a young woman could captivate me so much?

That's what I had thought, but no, she captivated me at once. I couldn't take my eyes off her while she walked confidently through the crowd on the arm of the vigorous Bulgarian, ignoring the looks of those present.

They seemed unimportant or even annoying to her, unlike Narcissa, who always wanted to be in the spotlight.

Her dress was fabulous.

The chest was embroidered with large, round, silver, light, and dark green sequins and flattered her cleavage. Green, thin spaghetti straps held it in place. Underneath her bust was a wrinkled moss-green band, dividing the dress into two parts, Empire style.

The rest of the flowing dress fell loosely and lightly down her beautiful body. The delicate, transparent chiffon flattered her youthful and desirable body, alternating mint green and moss green. It was a romantic and playful dress but far from childish, rather worth a sin and it promised more. In order to not be too naked, she wore a chiffon stole in the same, interlocked colours around her slim shoulders. On her small and delicate feet she wore silver stilettos and walked amazingly skilfully on these high heels, with a small silver handbag completing the outfit.

The girl... no, the young woman had renounced any jewelry and wore her velvety, dark and curly hair in a complicated style that piled on her head, and curious corkscrew curls hung artfully, seductively around her young face and slender neck.

She seemed like a fairy, romantic, sensual and seductive, enchanting the whole room. She made you willing to grasp this piece of art that was her hair and loosen it so that it would fall in wild curls around her head and her face would change into a mask of blissfulness while she would writhe under you when you took her to bed.

I knew the moment I studied her that I wanted that woman in my bed!

When I looked at her face, I realized that wasn't the face of an inexperienced girl, but that of a beautiful, desirable woman. She had discreet makeup, not too much, in a silvery grey, matching the dress and the accessories. Her features were delicate and very finely cut, and her lips glowed in a rose tone and shone very invitingly.

But it was her eyes that captured me. This rich brown, that seemed to tell a lot. Those eyes, which kept secrets and looked much older than those of her peers, and her thoroughly elegant appearance!

Surprisingly, she didn't seem insecure at all, on the contrary she looked very sure of herself. That was also recognisable by the way she approached us with her head held high and her eyes open. She didn't hesitate nor appeared shy when she approached us, even knowing our attitude and, thanks to Potter, even more about where we stood, what we were and what we were doing. However, it didn't seem to stop or frighten her.

Interesting, a beautiful and fearless woman. She became, minute by minute, more exciting and attractive!

While it was certainly her companion who wanted to greet us, she nonetheless wore it more than duly and knew how to behave, amazing for an inferior Mudblood.

I had to pull myself together, because the Bulgarian addressed me bravely and so I turned my eyes to him.

"Mr Malfoy, I'm Viktor Krum. I just wanted to wish your son a nice evening, as we had always gotten along well at Hogwarts," Krum said politely, making a Pureblood greeting and bowing reverently before me, which I liked and the left corner of my mouth moved up slightly, nodding benevolently.

"Pleased, Mr Krum. May I introduce you to my wife, Mrs Malfoy, before you turn to my son?" And so the well-behaved Quidditch player took the offered hand from my stupid wife and breathed a perfect hand kiss over her hand, not touching it.

"And your companion, Mr Krum...?" I ventured to ask silkily and lifted an eyebrow. Unnecessary in itself, but the rules demanded it and I wanted to see how the little girl handled it.

Would she stutter?

Was her confident appearance just a facade?

"Of course, Mr Malfoy. May I introduce you to Hermione Granger?" the young man asked, gesturing in the direction of his enchanting companion, which had hitherto been watching us immobile, her expression unreadable. "MISS GRANGER, finally I meet you face to face!" I raised my deep, melodic voice, which still sounded cold, though also revealed a trace of interest and amusement flared briefly in her brown eyes.

She was amused?

Usually, people didn't dare to be amused when I spoke to them and certainly not when we were on such directly opposite sides, like we were. What was her secret?

To my absolute amazement she followed the Pureblood rules exactly by sinking into a deep, absolutely correct curtsey without any hesitation. She held her upper body very straight, like she had swallowed a broomstick and bowed her petite head slightly, which I perceived with great astonishment. I would NEVER have expected that someone like HER would know how to greet someone like me correctly, but she knew and she did!

I didn't exactly know which one shocked me more!

That she was willing to bend her knee to ME, a Malfoy? Where was her famous Gryffindor pride? Or what about the fact that a mudblood knew about our rules?

She managed to do something that no-one else had done for a very long time, she roused my interest immensely. I felt a tremendous urge to grab her and make her submit to me like I've never felt before in my life!

In that moment, when she knelt in front of me, she tempted me in so many ways. I looked down at her humble frame, a view I enjoyed and would love to have in front of me forever!

Following a sudden inspiration, I reached for her hand, leaning towards her. Following the rules, she had remained in that submissive position until I, because of my higher ranking, allowed her to get out of it. All of this came as a surprise for me, but I didn't want to refuse her the honour of me greeting her duly. This should be a pleasure, I thought wryly.

When I touched her hand, I had the indefinable feeling that something flashed through my body, though I covered it up skillfully. It was as if I could sense that there was more to this girl than she let on, magically and otherwise. I felt how the interest towards her awoke more and more inside me with each moment passing by.

I instantly knew that I wanted to get to know her better and not just because of Potter...

However, the greatest question remained: How could a Muggleborn know about old traditional Pureblood mannerisms?

For this was without question the traditional performance of the correct greeting in magical society. I felt her amazingly firm grip when I gallantly and elegantly freed her from her humble position. It was very refreshing, how she returned the touch of our hands without any pretended reservation or shyness!

I had to realise that she really didn't play at all, she just wasn't scared or timid, something so exceptional that it captured me even more!

As a result, I wanted to tease her. I wanted more from her than that cold and expressionless face. Hence, I directed her hand to my mouth. I wanted to bait her, and out of an inner intuition I didn't obsessively obey the rules and put my lips on her softly scented skin, which was warm and felt soft under my desirous lips. In the moment I smelled her and her unique scent, I knew this woman would be mine, no matter what.

That final decision made, my eyes went up to hers and she returned my hard gaze. I noticed that her black pupils were widening for a brief moment when she apparently realised that my interest in her was ablaze. After all, my intense gaze showed her everything that I wished to get from her.

While I still held her tiny, delicate hand we maintained the piercing and penetrating eye contact, lost to the outside world.

Then I realised to my infinite joy that my manipulative and intimidating look didn't frighten or confuse her, and didn't even make her nervous, as her chin just rose a little more and I could see the annoyance in her eyes about the fact that I hadn't released her hand, yet.

Unusual. Either the women were happy that I was giving them my attention, or they were afraid of me, but I seldom evoked annoyance.

She showed herself confused, as I was still holding her hand. It had been such an overly long time it had started to become tactless, almost rude by now, but I still didn't want to break our contact or release her. Whereupon I heard a despicable snort beside me and a lot of rustling silk when my wife left us. Obviously, her vanity didn't take it well when I publicly found another woman attractive, especially not one that wasn't equal to her.

But honestly, this woman had fire and energy, as well as an unbreakable will and courage, and it really tickled me to figure out to what extent it was actually unbreakable, because if I learnt one thing in my life, then that everything and everyone broke at some point!

The second Narcissa's departure reached the Mudblood she straightened her back and pulled her hand away from mine. And as we were unfortunately not alone... I gave in and reluctantly released her hand.

Draco, my well-mannered, young son had taken care of his acquaintance, so our small exchange of non-verbal communication was overlooked discreetly.

"Draco, I think I don't need to introduce you to Hermione, do I?" her companion said, while I was looking around for Narcissa, though I wasn't able spot her. It didn't matter, because someone more interesting and important was occupying my attention than that sulky, stupid cow.

"No, Viktor, there really is no need for that, I know Granger and if I may, I'll kidnap her for a short dance!" my son retorted coldly and I blinked briefly , since it came as a surprise that my son felt the desire to dance with her. Draco didn't wait for Krum's answer, grabbing the Mudblood by the hand and pulling her to the dance floor to dance the waltz with her.

Draco was an excellent and gifted dancer. After all, Severus and I had been his teachers. He led the Mudblood determinedly and skillfully across the dance floor and whirled her to the rhythm of the music.

She surprised me , as she was doing very well. The society's gaze was completely focused on them. A Malfoy who dared to dance with Potter's friend was a scandal for my Death Eater friends of the Inner Circle and also made a good copy for the papers' gossip columnists.

The two good-looking young people made a fine couple, the only thing puzzling me was the fact that she neither let herself miss any step nor seemed to be surprised at all, instead she acted completely unlike every reaction I would have imagined, I had the feeling she took all of this all for granted. She made the impression of being absolutely in control. The whispering between the two seemed oddly familiar, which made me quite skeptical. It stopped when Draco put some distance between them to look at her body with a clearly assessing look. Now she appeared positively annoyed about his brisk, determined manner. It irritated her visibly and he must just have made fun of her.

But please, who could blame Draco? She was the most exquisite, fanciest and most seductive person the ball had had to offer, and that for years!

Right after the dance had ended and he had gallantly led her back to us, he joined the conversation about Quidditch which Mr Krum had previously carried almost totally by himself, since I'd rather watched her and my son dancing. And I still kept trying to keep an eye on her where she stood near us.

"And Draco, how did you like to dance with a Mu... with Miss Granger?" The question came from me arrogantly and I truly had to resist saying Mudblood in public, which only made her smile to my absolute astonishment. The whole time she constantly managed to amaze me and I was really annoyed that it was Draco who had danced with her and not myself.

She tempted me with that naughty smile that played around the corners of her mouth. Actually, she didn't look the least embarrassed or humiliated after I had almost offended her, because I didn't believe that she was ignorant about what I was about to say earlier!

"Yes, thank you, Father, it was fun! Does anyone want something to drink?" Draco asked politely. We all nodded at him apart from her, she shook her head and turned to our illustrious group with an apologetic look.

"If you'll excuse me? I would need to retreat for a short time." She gave Krum a sincere smile and quickly vanished in the crowd. She promptly left the crowded room and my eyes were stuck on her rear view. Quite delectable. As we all watched her leaving, I had to wonder if they felt like me, when I saw the looks on Draco's and Krum's faces, and I briefly asked myself how Draco treated the Mudblood at Hogwarts.

On the other hand, I was surprised by the changes that had happened to the girl I had seen at the Quidditch World Cup. She was now fully mature and her beautiful brown eyes told so much and still so little. Obviously, she had experienced a lot recently and it interested me immensely what this could be!

Because that wasn't normal!

Of course, she'd seen too much in the last few years, thanks to Potter. However, the true question was: What had happened to her to change her so much!

I could only think of one possible answer to this question, and that was death. It was able to leave marks on the souls of people and it showed in their eyes. Oh, she hid it quite perfectly, but not well enough for me.

Thinking about it, there was only the question of how. Because Potter had experienced a lot with his friends, but he was the only one who had met death, back in the cemetery. His friends, however, hadn't yet, as long as I wasn't misinformed and I was always well informed.

Death?

But her eyes didn't only speak about being a close witness of death, but about having taken lifes. And yes, I saw much... very much!

Otherwise, I wouldn't be the person I was, if I couldn't!

The matter was, where, how and when? Or was I wrong?

Well, either way, it only made her more attractive and increased the suspense. I liked being challenged.

I hadn't been listening to Krum and Draco for a long time now. Where had she gone? Did she leave and sought her safety in an escape?

"Gentlemen, please excuse me... I want to look for my wife!" I apologized. It was just a little lie, because I wanted to look for a woman, not my own, but a much more appealing and much more attractive one!

I took up the chase like a predator and walked smoothly through the crowd in search of my prey. I liked games like that! Who liked it easy?

Unbelievably, I couldn't find her! She was good… really good! Was she hiding…? From whom?

From me?

She couldn't know that I had decided to pursue her, that I had made the decision that she would be mine!

But where was she then?

I smiled honourably here and there while still wearing an expression that made it clear that I didn't want to be approached and thus to get past curious people without being stopped or addressed.

When I entered the bright halls of the lobby to the ballroom, I continued along in the direction of the elevators and the washrooms and soon I found my prey in the last powder room of the washrooms.

She tugged at the curls of her hair, me watching her from the back, examining her fine silhouette. Oh, I wanted this girl, preferably at once, right here and right now!

A bonus was that she was also the friend of the insufferable Potter, an ignoble Mudblood, but she was a desirable woman and that's what I wanted from her, her body and I would take what I wanted, what I desired!

I was used to getting what I wanted and right now I wanted her, her body submitting to me, voluntarily or not, whatever!

I didn't usually go for women that didn't want me, but I would generously make an exception for her because the most important thing was that I really wanted her!

Furthermore, the likelihood that she would ever willingly surrender to me was virtually nonexistent!

And lastly, I really wanted to feel HER with every fiber of my being and because of that I would take what I wanted, by force, if need be, and preferably now, because if I was one thing, it was impatient.

I noticed that she felt instinctively that she was being watched as her shoulder muscles tensed visibly.

Suddenly, she turned around and froze when she saw me standing there calmly waiting. I held her with my appraising gaze until I broke away abruptly and strolled menacingly and lasciviously toward her.

When she tried to escape to the right in a hectic rush like a cornered animal making a last dash for freedom, she made a mistake. When she stepped away from the dressing table she had the smooth, cold marble wall behind her back, so her flight came to a sudden end.

I acknowledged this ill-considered move with a mocking raise of the corner of my mouth, because I understood to take advantage of everything that got offered to me and widened my stance. On one side was the pillar that connected to the wall and on the other the dressing table with the mirror and I stood in-between. She was trapped, and I felt great satisfaction coursing through me when she realized that she was stuck, an immensely enjoyable fact for me.

I kept creeping forward, very slowly, anxious to lengthen the time by gently closing in on my prey before I would go for the kill.

Was there anything more exhilarating than the hunt?

Or, the pleasure of the victim surrendering when one had driven his prey into the corner and it accepted its fate, recognizing the hopelessness of the situation?

Above all, I wanted to play!

I saw her arrogantly stretching her chin towards me, trying not to appear intimidated or surrendering, even refusing to take her eyes off me for even a moment or to appear embarrassed. An interesting and unusual reaction to my threatening approach.

"Miss Granger, you are being searched for!" My deep voice sounded soft and I noticed how she was completely in control of her own reactions when she suppressed an instinctive shiver at the timbre of my voice.

Control!

She seemed to have amazing control over herself and her body, as I was now crowding her badly and had deliberately entered her personal space, but she was stubborn. That was an opponent out of my dreams. "Oh. Sorry if I made things inconvenient. I'll be there shortly!" she said, astonishingly composed, and she didn't sound intimidated as she stepped forward. Apparently, she wanted to make me release her and make room for herself, but she didn't really get very far before she was stopped by my very finely clothed, male chest and I wouldn't dream of releasing her.

She was much smaller than me or even Narcissa. It amused me exquisitely to stare down at her dainty head as I crept even closer.

I must have been intimidating to her with my strong, masculine appearance, because when she stood so exposed in front of me, I realized how petite and delicately built she really was. Compared to Narcissa, she had the physique of a child, height included, though I liked that she wouldn't grow much anymore! I liked it when people looked up to me. And yes, I meant that very ambiguously.

Reflexively, after coming so close to me in her attempt to escape from me, she fled backward to avoid touching me, causing her to gasp sharply in shock when her exposed skin came into contact with the bare, cold, marble wall and sheer goose bumps spread across her arms and all over her body. A thoroughly inspiring sight.

I sucked in each of the emotions she displayed with relish.

"Mr Malfoy, I think we should head back to the hall!" She raised her head and looked bravely into my eyes, saying this with a surprisingly firm voice. Something that irritated me once more, because no stutters, no timidity or hesitation was in her words. This girl wasn't aware what she did to me with her stubborn and unyielding attitude. She made herself irresistible to me. No woman had ever had the guts to look at me arrogantly in such a situation and tell me what I had to do with pretended politeness.

She was a fighter, worthy of me. She didn't give up and had the guts to openly oppose me, something even the lunatic Bellatrix didn't dare!

However, I was aware of my demeanour, my power and influence as well as my charisma and remained unmoved and amused in front of her.

"Do you, Miss Granger?" I whispered velvety, tauntingly giving her a once-over and taking in the sight of her appealing body.

Then I took the final, decisive step and finally captured her with my body. Bracing my hand on the marble, I effectively pinned her in place, as on the other side of her body I brought the serpent head of my cane to her neck.

With this indecent and sleazy gesture I was deliberately and intentionally harassing her in a threatening manner, hoping that she finally lost her composure. I was waiting to see a spark of fear or panic in her beautiful brown eyes.

"My son fancies you!" I whispered hoarsely, meanwhile guiding the silver serpent's head playfully along her neck down to her clavicle and with relish I slowly, suggestively followed the trail, giving her a thoroughly wicked and wolfish grin because her goose bumps hadn't gone away, which confirmed to me that she wasn't unaffected, though she stood rigidly and stubbornly against the wall, doing nothing, neither trying to beg, nor pleading or pushing me away and starting to be violent toward me. However, her body still showed her feelings. It was almost as if she was calculating what would anger me more.

And as impressively as she had herself under control, I could very well read the hectic pace of her heartbeat from the main artery on her neck. I saw that I didn't leave her cold, something that gave me some satisfaction.

When my snake made the way back just as intrusively, she decided to give in far enough to turn her head to the side. She showed that she was uncomfortable and I didn't manage to give the gratified grin time to spread over my lips before her sudden words took me by surprise.

"I'm a mudblood, in which way could your son fancy me?" She responded to my previous question, and this indifferent and degrading statement, said by her so emotionlessly, threw me for a loop and rubbed me the wrong way, which is why I took my cane and put it under her chin. Mercilessly, I forced her to bent her head back until she had to meet my eyes.

"There are other ways to have fun with mudbloods, Miss Granger!" I whispered suggestively. I was serious and I saw that she understood what I was trying to say, because something flashed in her eyes. Unfortunately I couldn't say if it was fear or even the realisation that she wouldn't be able to escape from me.

"If you say that, Mr Malfoy!" She had caught herself unspeakably fast and returned my gaze steadily. That didn't suit me at all. How dare she after she had just lost some of her composure?

It shouldn't be going like that! She should be shaking with the fear induced by the implications of my statement, or stand in front of me with tears in her eyes, but not appear so proud and composed. This annoyed me immensely, but also aroused me tremendously, because who liked it when the hunted prey immediately surrendered? That would be mostly unsatisfactory and boring, but she, on the contrary, gave me a fight and that made me wanting her more!

And so, I pressed myself more firmly against her in reaction. She gasped when I squeezed the air out of her lungs. I let her feel the part I had given her in our duel and showed her my arousal, which pushed eagerly against her stomach. I finally hoped to get the reaction that would be normal for any woman who was so inappropriately hit on and threatened by a much older man, a stranger.

"Mr Malfoy, you are the hand of the Dark Lord, shouldn't you try to kill me, Harry's friend, instead of… this here?" She replied calmly to my indecent actions. That briefly left me speechless because instead of doing what I expected and took for granted, this very cheeky thing in front of me showed an outrageous and terribly arousing emotional coldness and stated her point of view in an absolutely emotionless, firm and controlled voice, daring again to tell me what I was supposed to do. And no one did that!

Nobody told Lucius Malfoy what he had to do!

She was very confident, considering how much I physically harassed her, she kept a surprisingly cool head, but that caused me to lose my sovereignty, so I let out a hoarse and deep laugh and let my snake wander sensually slow over her shoulder again and slid it down her arm. This woman had to learn humility, and obedience. Oh she would be a challenge, which I would be only too happy to take.

"You are not afraid to say things where most people would prefer to stay silent…! Interesting… Why should I kill you so soon? There are other ways to get to ones goal! Why should I deny myself the pleasure? And you, you promise me fun…Miss Granger! So calm, so aloof, so little Gryffindor… so perfect for me! And the next time you should better keep quiet instead of shouting your assumption regarding the Dark Lord and my roll into the world… I'll give you another reason to SCREAM!" I hissed at the end of my remarks and gripped her soft hair, roughly and brutally, with the hand which had previously been braced against the marble next to her head, and pulled her head lightening fast to one side and then leaned over her shoulder before I bit very hard into her soft skin.

I was so angry at the end!

How dare the Mudblood to speak like that, first of all, and secondly, to stand in front of me so unfazed and controlled, and therefore I bit down. I wanted to brand her as mine, because she would be mine!

For a brief moment, when my teeth gradually dug into her flesh with constant, brute force, she seemed totally stunned by what I was doing with her right now. It amazed me that she didn't scream loudly immediately, because I was prepared to speak a non-verbal Silencio as soon as she made the first loud exclamation. It was relishing to hurt her right now. I couldn't imagine that this didn't hurt, for I bit hard and without any regard, pulling roughly on her hair and holding her tight.

When I began to taste her blood, her sweet metallic blood, which filled my mouth and only aroused me even more, I started to rub my lower body greedily on her frozen one.

But this bitch still did nothing. She didn't scream, nor did she really fight against my firm grip, she only placed her hands on my chest and tried to push me slowly away, which, however, made me press even closer to her, thereby capturing her hands between us. Now she was condemned to immobility by my side, but there was still no sound from her sweet lips, no whimpering, no sighing, nor screaming, just nothing... this was so incredibly unsatisfactory!

But also terribly arousing and exciting, because I didn't want anything more than to hear these sounds from her mouth. When it was apparently so hard to elicit them from her, it stimulated my imagination of how I could manage to push her to her limits. By now I didn't care that we were in the ministry and in public. The scandal... All these scruples had already been lost on me, I just wanted her, so I eagerly forced her legs apart, willing to take right now what I wanted and positioned myself in between them.

After hearing no protest I devoutly pulled my teeth out of her maltreated shoulder and from the wound I had made, as I wanted to see what was going on inside her. When I watched her with lust and greed, her shimmering eyes looked at me from a defiant face, but she didn't shed a single tear.

"You didn't scream!" I whispered harshly and more than aroused because that really surprised me. Her watery eyes told me she was suffering, though it didn't explain why she prohibited any sounds to escape, yet it turned me on and it stoked my desire to possess her.

She didn't say anything more, just silently participated in a duel of glances until I broke the contact off briskly to admire my work instead and looked down at the bite.

It was fueling my passion when I saw my teeth marks on her beautiful, smooth shoulder and how her blood seeped out of the wound. I really liked my mark on her and slowly lowered my head and idly licked off the blood with my tongue, thus caressing the injury and lasciviously running along the outlines, the mark of my teeth and trying not to be completely captivated by my desire.

When I noticed, because of my unyielding hand in her hair, how her head dropped down to her neck as she listened to mebecause of my unyielding hand in her hair, her dropping her head down her neck as she listened to me. Unfortunately, I now heard footsteps that approached us, but I didn't want to be disturbed and preferred not to react immediately, then I was surprised that she didn't scream for help, but I guess she it seemed like she just didn't want a scandal.

"Father? Mother is looking for you. Fudge wants to give the speech with your assistance and Krum is looking for Granger!" I heard Draco's cold, unemotional voice and I would've liked to torture all those he named as well as him with the Crucio. How dare these cretins to interrupt me right now, I had almost got her... would've completely conquered her!

When I jerked my head up, I looked at her again demandingly, but I knew that duty called and I was a Malfoy and abruptly stepped away from her to follow that call as always, nodding politely and pushing my passion and lust away within seconds, and gave way to the composed and blank Lucius.

"I'm coming, Draco! Until the next bite, Miss Granger!" I emphasized, because it was only a pleasure deferred! Thus, I turned around elegantly and walked majestically out of the small room without regarding the annoying troublemaker, who was my son, and cleaned my face with a spell, vanishing the sweet and delicious blood of the Mudblood.

Today she had escaped me, but that meant nothing... nothing at all, because the hunt was now opened and I wouldn't rest until she belonged to me. I would show this arrogant little thing what it meant to challenge me!

Because that's what she had done with her stubborn and desirable attitude and it teased me... Oh, if I had her still in my hands, I would show her, and teach her what it meant to mess with me and it would bring me a lot of joy, pleasure and fun.

I would enjoy every step of the pursuit until she was mine, as she promised to be special!

I entered the shiny golden hall, presenting the crowd with my polite and friendly mask, and routinely held my speech with a blasé and stiff Narcissa by my side.


End file.
